


Space

by kyluxtrashcompactor



Series: Finding Balance [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Post-Coital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 10:11:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6190849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyluxtrashcompactor/pseuds/kyluxtrashcompactor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They share a bed for release. That in itself may be some form of comfort, but there are others. Closeness. Not being alone. But they are, perhaps, not ready for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Space

Ren was unsure of the hour, though he felt the passage of this evening's time in every fiber of his being. It was an ache, but a good one, so different from the sharp throb that usually boiled near the surface: the tightness in his chest and the way it felt as though a thousand needles had worked their way into the grey matter of his brain. Most days, he felt as though he might combust from it, and some days he did. 

What set him off could be the simplest of matters: a wrong word, an overheard thought ( _there's that lunatic Lord Ren again)_ accompanied by someone shying away, hugging the wall to avoid him, as though any wall could offer security from _him_.

Hux was the only man aboard the ship, and perhaps the only person, he had ever met that was not afraid of him. He was, besides Snoke, the only individual he let tell him what to do, though he had never elucidated upon that reason for Hux. The question, of course, had never been asked.

Ren lay on his side in his bed, sheets tangled and wound around his legs, a chill creeping into his flesh now that the sweat from the night's exertions was drying. His arm rested on the crook of his elbow, for the pillows had scattered or been flung aside, and his other hand rested between he and Hux.

Exactly one hand length separated them.

The general's back was turned, and Ren took the rare moment to appreciate him. Hux was a man of action: their trysts were without exception blisteringly dynamic, lacking in intimacy beyond the physical. Their unions served a purpose. Different purposes, perhaps, inconstant for either of them, for they were both creatures of varying moods. Sometimes, it was release from the stress of their co-command that they craved. Sometimes it was purely primal need. And they both surely had secret needs, cravings of the soul that begged for satisfaction. Ren did, and he found himself hoping that Hux did as well.

Ren's eyes slid over the still form, wondering if Hux was awake, and when he would make his inevitable flight. The room was completely dark, beyond the blue of the omnipresent data pad Hux has left open on the table, and that glow played over Hux's shape. It picked out, limning softly, the things Ren always tried to memorize when he can concentrate on the general in this vulnerable, rare form.

Ren has had occasion to commit to memory some features: that narrow, toned waist that Kylo's hands nearly fit around, the jut of his hip bones as he rolled them so expertly in Ren's lap. The flat, toned belly and the supple ass.

Other aspects, however, eluded him without these moments of stillness. His shoulder is sloped, delicate, and dotted with innumerable freckles. He has a long, graceful neck, and when his hair is not combed into submission or hidden beneath his hat, it erases years from the general's presence. And his feet … they were, Ren thought, perfect. Every toe, the burnished pink pads of his heels, and the way they were dusted with tiny freckles as were his hands. Every fiber of Kylo's being wanted to reach across that one hand's length of space between them and stroke a finger down the curve of his spine, to that little hollow at the base.

“You stare very loudly,” Hux said, voice thick with exhaustion, and Ren started.

He wanted to profess that he couldn't help himself, that Hux was beautiful, but thinking it, he could almost feel the energy gathering around the general to bolt. To leave him alone, like he always did. The fact that he was still here at all was startling. As a rule, when they found themselves in Ren's quarters rather than Hux's, the general was rolling out of the bed the moment they finished, dressed, and gone.

At that moment, Hux did move, and Ren tensed, but found himself surprised when instead of slipping from bed, the general rolled over, facing him. His eyes were dark in the twilight gloom, though the gleam of the data pad turned his eyelashes to silver. It was dazzling, Ren thought. That gaze.

There was still a hand's length of space between them, and the general didn't close it. He merely looked at Ren, and Kylo regarded him in turn. It was strange, that the two of them could enjoy each others' bodies in the most intimate and thorough of ways, and yet manage to generate discomfort from eye contact.

“Why are you still here?” Ren asked, and immediately cursed himself. _He wanted him here._

Hux's feline eyes took in Kylo's wince at his own words, and smirked. He'd understood, perhaps, what Ren had meant.

“I'm going,” he stated. And then he did not move.

It allowed Ren to notice other things. That Hux's lips were pink and slightly swollen from overuse. That his red hair was the color of blood in the darkness. That there was a bruise on his shoulder, in the shape of Kylo's mouth.

Without thinking, for he did his best work that way, Ren finally reached across the small space that separated them and brushed a thumb over the mark, tracing the half moon indentation. He realized with a jolt that he'd never touched this man before without the intention that it would lead to sex, or something similar. He had never touched him just to see what he felt like. That thought guided his fingers from Hux's shoulder, down the rise of a collarbone, to the tiny hollow at the base of his throat. When Kylo looked up, he was surprised to find the general's eyes lidded, not seeing him.

Perhaps because of that, because Ren could take something without permission, he leaned forward and brushed his lips ever so softly against Hux's.

And waited for him to strike.

He did not. Instead, the general allowed the contact, though did not offer anything in return. As though he were merely allowing Kylo the answer to a question to file away. Finally drawing back, unable to process his feelings about Hux's noncommittal response, the general's eyes opened fully and fixed on him. Darkly.

“I should go,” he said, and Ren heard the sharp angles of the words.

He knew Hux would say no, but Ren forced himself to say: “You don't have to.”

Hux was already moving though, lithe naked body sitting up, turning away as feet slipped to the floor. For the briefest of seconds, Hux paused there. Hands on the bed, gripping the mattress, and it took every bit of Ren's self-discipline not to cast out and read the general's thoughts.

“No,” Hux said, finally, gesturing at Ren's bed without turning around. It was not like the general's bed, which was uncharacteristic of shipboard accommodations. It was twice the size of Ren's. Hux stood, glanced at him. “There's not enough space.”

Ren didn't argue as he tugged the rumpled sheet around himself, but he also allowed the brief surge of bitterness that came from some deep place in his soul to give himself clearance to delve beyond Hux's explanation. To read what lay beneath the words “not enough space.”

What he heard was _“not yet.”_

 


End file.
